From Human to Machine and Back Again
by MarquetteFan33
Summary: Short drabbles for the Wheatley x Chell pairing.  Ten per chapter, fifty total.  Human Wheatley, non-human, AU, canon, anything goes.
1. Chapter 1

Human to Machine and Back Again, Part 1

Summary: Short drabbles for the Wheatley x Chell pairing. Ten per chapter. Human Wheatley, non-human, AU, canon, anything goes.

AN: Here's an idea. Let's do a whole ton of drabbles! However, I'll need a little help from anyone who reads this and enjoys it: send me prompts and ideas you would like me to try writing. They can be as specific or as vague as you want. Thanks for your help (in advance), and I hope you like the stories!

1. Chocolate

Wheatley looked over at Chell. She sat five feet from him with… a package of some sort? His optic zoomed in on said package, noting it was chocolate.

He scanned his memory banks and pulled up the file he'd retained on the sweet confection: "_A sweet treat humans consume. Derived from the Cacao Tree, it is commonly mixed with sugar and milk before consumption._" That… told him far less than he'd hoped for.

All he noticed was a calm, content look on Chell's face as she consumed the contents of the newly found box. He watched as she took another small morsel from the container, took some black wrapper thing off of it, and plopped it into her mouth. Apparently this chocolate stuff was powerful, since she seemed happy during the middle of another test GLaDOS placed before her. He _never_ had seen a person remotely happy during any test, let alone smiling contentedly.

Wheatley internally wished he could make her that happy.

2. Blood

Wheatley had been human for only two weeks. GLaDOS had decided to do so, removing his immortality—the perfect torture for that bumbling personality sphere. He protested it immensely at first ("Don't do that to me, you bloody monster!"), but realized it was nothing more than a form of retribution. By this point, he'd finally begun to accept his fate. She deposited he and Chell outside the facility and left them to live and die while she'd remain alive forever.

Chell took him to a nearby town, and began to establish herself by getting a job as a waitress at a local diner. She had to teach him everything: how to eat (not to bad, but certain foods he _refused_ to touch after trying them the first time), how to bathe (the most embarrassing thing Chell could imagine to that point), and how to use a fork, spoon and…

…knife.

She was in the next room when she heard the accented yelp, and rushed in only to find Wheatley had tried consuming the leftover chicken breasts from the previous evening and cut his hand with a steak knife.

She saw the red blood begin to drip from the wound as he held one hand in the other, and the quizzical, painful look from his face worried her. Rushing over to the kitchen counter, she grabbed a bunch of paper towels, grabbed his hand and began applying pressure to the wound.

"Will I be alright?" Wheatley weakly questioned.

Chell removed the paper toweling from the wound a couple of minutes later, to assess the damages. The cut barely sliced through all of the skin layers. Just a bit of gauze padding would completely stop the now weak flow of blood from the wound.

She looked up at him with a smile on her face before saying, "You'll be fine, Wheatley. It isn't deep." Her face turned a tad more stern, "Be careful with sharp objects. You're lucky this isn't that bad, otherwise you'd need stitches."

"That's good, isn't it, love?"

"Yes, it is. Let me go get the first aid kit."

She reminded herself that she needed to still be at his side almost all of the time. Somehow, she was fine with that thought.

3. Hands

The idea of having hands was bloody awesome.

Wheatley gained this idea just by watching everything Chell did with them. She could pick up and eat from cans of food (something those sme—humans needed to do). She could open doors using the doorknob or a keypad (something he could do simply by hacking—although he wouldn't say it was his best skill). She could also pick him (and weighted companion cubes too) up. Now that was something he wasn't capable of at all.

When thinking about it, doors would open to him that he couldn't even conceive at this moment. He'd be able to feel pain (not that he wanted to), feel hot and cold (what did cold even feel like?), and maybe get to touch her hand and determine whether it really was as soft as it looked…

When he saw her do these types of things that required hands, he wanted more and more to experience those things—to become human. Such things were impossible, he sadly thought. Were such desires that of a human as well? Was he closer than he thought?

Oh well. But if he had hands, he could hold and use Chell's portal device. That would be pretty bloody cool too.

4. Devotion

Wheatley followed Chell on his Management Rail as she led him through the "behind the scenes" of Aperture Science. Together, they would stop GLaDOS and free Chell from a lifetime of unwanted grueling tests. He looked at her face as he rolled forward, observing the sheer determination present in her expression.

He would get her out. He'd bet his artificial life on it.

As they rounded the corner, Chell turned around, facing him with her beautiful grey eyes, and lightly smiled. He felt some sort of simulated reaction trigger within his circuitry, something he'd hope to appreciate in the future. He'd finally found his best friend, and loved every second of it. Nothing could even come close to changing that fact.

5. Gift

Chell and Wheatley met at work three and a half years prior. They reside in different departments: Chell works in the computer development department, while Wheatley is a part of the biology department. Although their workfields have little in common and likely wouldn't see much of one another, they met by bumping into each other—literally—when Wheatley was late for a meeting (at least what he perceived to be late, he was actually fifteen minutes early).

Today was a special day: Chell's 25th birthday. Wheatley, knowing Chell for as long as he did, knew what to get her, but he simultaneously worried his gift was too fancy or not enough.

When you're the best friend, what do you get for someone?

That morning before he arrived at Chell's desk, he continuously contemplated his gift: too much, too little, how would she react, would she even like it…

"Wheatley!" Chell greeted with a large smile on her face.

"Oh, hello Chell, how's your day been so far?" Wheatley began to mumble… he hadn't realized he was that close to her desk. Had he walked through some of those silly interdimensional portal things her department was developing on the way here?

"Hey, what's wrong? You don't seem quite like yourself." She began.

"No, no, I'm fine… I just… here. Happy birthday." He brought the gift from behind his back unceremoniously, with a small goofy smile on his face.

Chell was stunned. "Wheatley! You didn't have to get me anything! …but thanks! Thank you!" She immediately took the small package and wrapped her arms around his lean torso. He could tell he was blushing…

"Do you… do you want to open it? Do you have time?"

"Of course. This portal project can wait a couple of minutes." She replied before removing the cover off of the small black box, finding a small pair of silver and pearl earring studs. Her jaw opened in disbelief. "They're—they're beautiful! You didn't have to get me something _this_ nice! Thank you!" She then reached over and kissed his cheek. "I love them. I'll see you after work, alright?" She said before grabbing some papers and walking away from her desk.

Did she happen to notice his face turn flaming red? Did he have the same effect on her that she does on him?

He hoped to find out after work.

6. Waves

They arrived at their destination after ten minutes of driving: the beach. Chell decided to vacation in San Diego, a place of incredibly hot temperatures (which Wheatley couldn't sense outside of a built-in thermometer) and gorgeous beaches (electronic devices such as himself don't work well with water). Despite attempting to have her change the destination based on what he knew, she purchased the plane tickets anyway and booked the hotel room.

She picked him up from the passenger seat and placed him in a special device that strapped him to her back. After they walked through the sand, she set him on a towel, giving him a chance to look around at the scenery.

Wheatley's optic scanned the beach. It was completely deserted outside of both of them, and he was located fifteen feet from the water's edge. That fact momentarily scared him until Chell reassured him he couldn't possibly get wet at this distance. That calmed him slightly, but the fact remained it was still _water_.

"Chell, um… what exactly are we doing here? You know I'm not human like you, and would _fry_ like chips if I touch that ocean over there… I certainly don't want that, and—"

"Relax. I'm not going anywhere. You're going to be fine, I just didn't want to leave you at the hotel room all morning." Chell calmly replied as she walked toward the water.

Now _here _was something he hadn't noticed before. She wore far less than he'd ever seen her wear (he was certain he'd have remembered if she'd worn less in front of him): a bikini. It was aqua, with two tied straps behind her neck. She splashed her feet in the ocean's waves, turned and looked back at him. She smiled and waved right in his direction. His internal temperature raised a few degrees. If he was human, he'd probably have a bright red face from blushing too much since she was absolutely beautiful…

…Bloody hell, he wished he was human far more now than ever.

7. Thunder / Lightning

Chell and Wheatley both took off of work the same week, so they could go on a vacation together to Upper Michigan. The massive, dense forests and quiet streams were absolutely beautiful this time of year as they drove Wheatley's tiny Honda Civic down the dirt roads. However, during their stay, they ended up with a few poor-weather days with harsh thunderstorms. One day, Chell was tired of staying in the hotel during one such storm. Despite Wheatley's protests, she dragged him to the car and they drove off.

"Where exactly are we going, love?" He turned and asked her innocently.

"You'll see when we get there." She replied with a large smile on her face.

Not long afterward, they arrived at the pier. The parking lot was on the dock, allowing the car to overlook Lake Michigan facing Wisconsin. The deep grey, cloudy sky was difficult to see through the windshield, Wheatley noted, with the large raindrops pelting the glass.

After a moment, Chell told him to look through the sunroof. Within moments, a flash of lightning arced overhead, causing Wheatley to jump. He jumped again just a couple of seconds later once the thunder boomed.

"W—Wow! That was something else! You mean to say we came out here just to watch the storm?" Wheatley asked, dumbfounded.

"Exactly. Just enjoy what you see."

"Oh, I will, love…" He quietly spoke in her ear before cupping her cheek and kissing her.

If either of them would have looked up at that moment, a massive lightning bolt, resembling a tree's entangled roots, shot across the sky. The sound of the thunder which resulted caused Wheatley to jump once again.

8. Death

Wheatley's mental image of Chell was always that of a determined, unwavering, tough woman. He'd seen aspects of it fade briefly from time to time, but nothing quite like this.

He'd gotten a call at work from her today, but he couldn't even distinguish half of what she said. She was absolutely frantic and panicking, so Wheatley figured he'd take the remainder of his work with him, head home, and see what had her so upset.

The moment he opened the door, he heard the stomping of footsteps followed by Chell barreling toward him and latching on. Her hands secured themselves around his lean torso, grasping at the material of his white labcoat. He looked down, noting the red around her eyes and the clear, salty liquid leaking out the corners…

Oh no… Chell…

"My mom… she called today and… and… dad, he…" Wheatley watched as her small frame broke down, wracked by huge sobs that he didn't know how to stop or calm. What was he supposed to do?

"Chell, love—"

"Don't… don't say anything right now. Just… let me… let me hold you."

"Chell, what happened?—" He tried.

"I don't want to talk about it right now!" She immediately lashed back with, glaring up at him with her swollen eyes. "You've never lost a family member, hell, all of your _grandparents_ are still alive over in England right now! You don't get it! You can't! You… can't…" Her speech calmed down into sobs once again.

"I'm here, love." He quietly supplied. She grabbed him tighter (if possible), and hoped to God things would get better from here.

9. Melody

Chell liked to hum to herself.

Any time she was deep within her thoughts, a small tune would arise from her vocal cords. For some reason, it must help with her concentration, Wheatley mused. This particular song always starts off at a low-pitched hum, later leading into a louder crescendo of sound before she would cease humming for the time being.

Wheatley found it soothing within Aperture Science, a facility full of increasingly difficult death traps. More importantly, his circuits were soothed simply through listening to her beautiful voice in such situations. If only she was a tad more talkative, he'd listen to her voice all day long.

10. Ears

Wheatley had never liked his ears. Every time he looked into his desk mirror at work, he shied away. They stuck slightly outward from his head, but he felt as though they were as noticeable as Dumbo's. He even tried to hide them behind his straw-colored hair by growing it out longer than his father had ever considered acceptable.

Chell thought his ears were adorable. She was aware he tried to hide their outward angle under his constantly disheveled hair, but he tried to hide that fact from her. She found out one afternoon after giving his hair a trim he deemed "far too short around the ears." He didn't explicitly say it, but she knew. He was always insecure ever since he was a young child, since he was what he considered the "different one."

She didn't care, she just loved him for who he was. Everyone has flaws they wish they could overlook.


	2. Chapter 2

Human to Machine and Back Again, Part 2

Summary: Short drabbles for the Wheatley x Chell pairing. Ten per chapter. Human Wheatley, non-human, AU, canon, anything goes.

AN: Hello again! I was highly surprised by the number of Favorites/Story Alerts I received from the last chapter, and I even got two reviews! Thanks to everyone! Here are the next ten prompts. Let me know if there are certain drabbles you _really_ like, or which ones you think could be improved. Leave me a review with feedback, or other prompt ideas you can think of.

11. Monster

It happened. That singular moment when everything becomes completely clear, when everything up until that point makes complete sense.

When Chell held onto him through the open portal to the bloody _moon_ (how in the hell was that even possible?), it felt as though a tumor was removed from his mind. Something was… different. As he yelled for her to hold on to his handles and not let go, GLaDOS shoved him off, causing him to catapult into the depths of space.

As he was floating there, with the corrupt space sphere's constant interruptions (I know we're in space, mate), he found himself contemplating what happened back there in Her lair at Aperture. He'd found himself with this uncontrollable itch to test, to destroy, to kill…

…oh God, he'd tried to _kill_ her. He tried to kill the one person who listened to him, who put up with him without calling him a bloody moron, who was his only friend in _centuries_, who actually seemed to care about him and see him as more than just a personality sphere—

Then the realization set in.

Wheatley became the monster he'd tried to avoid. He was no better than Her. No, not quite, he was worse… he'd betrayed her _and_ tried to kill her.

No, no, no, no, no! Now he and the space sphere floated endlessly in space, likely for all eternity since Aperture products simply don't die, and he'd never get the chance to apologize, to atone, to beg for Chell's forgiveness for his awful actions…

"SPAAAAAAAACE!"

"Ugh. Yes, you're in space, mate. For the thousandth bloody time, we established this."

12. Potato

Three months after Wheatley's return as a human, Chell learned his biggest fear: it wasn't water as she'd worried it could have been (although he still wasn't comfortable around it yet), but potatoes. She supposed it didn't help that potatoes were a starchy vegetable with eyes, but she knew his logic all too well. They reminded him of _Her, _and a point in his life he'd rather forget.

She discovered this strange phobia during one evening after cooking dinner: southwest marinated grilled chicken and twice-baked potatoes. He didn't touch the potato even after devouring his portion of chicken, even going so far as to shove it away from his plate while glaring at the offending thing. Neither said a word until after dinner was cleaned up, unfinished potato and all.

Finally, Wheatley spoke up about his discomfort. "I'd really prefer to not be reminded of all that happened." He began. "By coming here with you, I found myself hoping this could be the new start I've been looking for. Seeing that potato on the plate reminded me of everything at Aperture, everything I'd rather forget—"

Chell placed one finger on his rambling lips. "You don't need to apologize for anything; it's just not something I'd thought of. Maybe over time we'll get you more comfortable around potatoes, since they really are quite delicious. At some point, we'll have you try French fries. How does that sound?"

"Just give me some more time, love."

13. Ice Cream

"What is that stuff?" Wheatley questioned, looking at where Chell was laying back on the living room couch. On her lap was a plastic tub with this creamy-looking green stuff with brown spots. Every so often, she would take her spoon (he at least knew what that was by now) and fish out a lump of the stuff, delicately placing it in her open mouth.

"This? It's ice cream. Want some?"

He'd found he had a natural aversion to green-colored foods. Once he'd tried this broc-cow-li stuff she made, and spat it out immediately. The same thing happened with spin-nich—both vegetables had this certain taste he couldn't place, but disliked anyway. However, he was naturally inquisitive, so he needed to try.

She scooped him one spoonful of the stuff, and his first reaction was to poke it. Once he did, his finger felt cold—apparently the stuff was frozen. However, it quickly melted on his index finger, acting more than milk than some solid stuff. It seemed safe enough, so he stuck the entire spoon in his mouth.

The cold sensation hit him first, but his test showed it, so he expected that. The texture itself was incredibly creamy, and it had some cooling sensation that he _knew_ he'd encountered somewhere else, but couldn't place. After the cream disappeared, there were small chunks—what he'd identified as the brown spots—remaining. Biting into one, he quickly identified it as chocolate, something he did enjoy.

"Wow! Chell, that stuff is delicious! Can I have some more?" He asked her sweetly. She nodded her head 'yes,' and proceeded into the kitchen, returning with a second spoon. As she handed him the utensil, he quickly kissed her on the cheek before scooping himself some more ice cream.

At the very least, he found one green food he'd eat.

14. Time

Time heals all wounds, the saying says. But could that really hold true?

Three years passed since Chell's release. Her physical wounds healed within the month, but her mental ones ran far deeper. Almost immediately following her escape, she picked up a full-time job at the local grocery store to survive, and purchased sessions with a therapist with any spare money. By this point in time, she felt as though she'd fully moved on—

-until she heard the news.

A circular metallic object with the Aperture Science logo had crashed into a mobile home about 150 miles from her new home (thankfully, the inhabitants weren't home so no one was injured). She saw the news footage, and the flickering blue optic was unmistakable—it was him.

She felt a minor panic attack coming on. What was he doing back on Earth? Did he still want to kill her or force her to test? Did he go back to who he had been—the sweet bumbling Wheatley she cared deeply about? Did he care about her anymore?

The announcer dryly stated that he was now in the custody of the United States Government. Now what? He'd now never get the chance to make amends, and she'd never get the chance to tell him how much she cared.

Her panic attack continued. Time may heal wounds, but those involving him were far too recent. Three years wasn't enough time… hell, the rest of her life may not be.

15. "The Part Where He Kills You"

"Oh great, this is the part where he kills us." GLaDOS's monotone voice stated from the confines of her potato prison.

" 'ello! This is the part where I kill you!" Wheatley's voice joyfully said back. Chell looked up at his monitor. There he was. Her determined stare caught his attention, as though she wouldn't simply drop dead as he wanted. He internally growled… after everything he did for her: releasing her from stasis, getting her out of the relaxation chamber, leading her around the facility… she'd never said something as simple as "Thanks for everything, Wheatley!" She'd pay.

He had a room of spike plates lined up around her. No way in or out, he'd made sure in advance. This was his _one _chance, and he wouldn't allow anything to go wrong.

Chell looked around; there was no escape.

Bam!

Wheatley looked down at the location all of his spike plates had converged. No movement whatsoever, and… did he spot a small stream of leaking blood from the platform? Oh dear, he didn't know who would have to clean that up…

…wait. He did it? Really? She wasn't going to just jump up and continue? Wow. Oh wow… he began to chuckle. His plan worked. _She_ was wrong, he wasn't a moron, his plan worked! After he would get this bloody mess cleaned up, he could find a new test subject and continue with the testing rounds since he found all of this quite enjoyable if he didn't say so himself…

…no more Chell? He lifted one of the plates away, and saw an arm. There was a stream of blood leaking down and dripping off of the fingers, the portal gun having been dropped into the pit a little while ago. Chell?

He revealed her lifeless form when he took the rest of the plates away. They mangled her body beyond recognition and repair, there were holes from the spikes piercing her skin and outfit and her hair was tainted with red…

No. Nonono. Chell! What… what had he done? He let the corruption take hold in his malleable brain, and he killed her? She wasn't alive anymore, she couldn't look up and smile at him even through the torture he insisted on putting her through and he'd never see that beautiful face again or fantasize about her completing more tests as he watched and enjoyed as she moved through another challenge—

A yell cut off any train of thought. A yell which shattered any mental sanity he'd still maintained after the core transfer.

A Wheatley without a Chell couldn't exist as a Wheatley at all.

16. "Final Transmission"

Chell laid down on her plush bed, beginning to read by the lamp on the Weighted Companion Cube nightstand. Turning another page, she momentarily looked out the single window, seeing the pale glow from a full moon. Thirty-three years—it'd been that long since her emergence from that run-down shed? Thinking briefly about her life since escaping Aperture Science, it was. Thirty-three years since he'd tried to help her escape, thirty-three years since he'd betrayed her, thirty-three years since he'd been shot into space…

How was he doing now? Maybe he still floated around up there without a care in the world, or maybe She called him back… but Chell quickly dismissed that thought, since GLaDOS likely enjoyed the peace and quiet.

All of a sudden, a beeping sound resounded through the small bedroom. Looking around for whatever made such a unique sound, she noticed it was coming from her nightstand: the Companion Cube. Upon further inspection, the central heart on one panel stuck outward and began to blink pale pink. A button?

She curiously pressed it, stopping the beeping. A scratchy, monotone feminine voice came from within the cube. "I hope this is _you_ I'm speaking to."

"Yes, as long as you're looking for the one person who escaped from your facility." Chell lightly replied.

"Oh, good. I'd hoped I wouldn't have to track you down using the microchip planted in your skull. I have a message for you." GLaDOS calmly stated.

"A message? I haven't been to Aperture in thirty-three years. Are you absolutely sure you're looking for me?" She slowly questioned.

"Of course. The speaker explicitly stated it was for you, and only you. I only listened for two seconds before shutting off that moron's voice. Here, I'll begin playing it for you."

A great deal of static came over the speaker. The voice began to speak, "This message is for Chell. Chell, it's… Wheatley. I know you probably don't want to hear this voice ever again—"

"Wh-Wheatley?—"

"—and I'll never get another chance to say this, but I'm sorry. I'm apologizing for everything. Abandoning you, betraying you, trying to kill you, everything. I don't, even to this day, understand what came over me. I hope you can accept my apology after all of these years. It's lonely out here… my only companion, the Space Sphere, powered down just a couple of months ago, and my diagnostics are telling me I'll be going soon too. Even though I won't get a reply back, I just want you to accept my mistakes. Thank you for everything, Chell, and I…" The recording was cut out by static. At this moment, the Companion Cube powered down, the pink light fading into the darkness. Chell found tears falling from her eyes, and could only say four words before breaking down into mournful sobs:

"I forgive you, Wheatley."

17. "Dual Pit Experiment"

Wheatley looked on in frustration. His Turret-Cubes, which he'd designed solely with the purpose of buttons were ineffective, to say the least. Even when a single one managed to step on one of the buttons, the sensation he experienced wasn't as strong as he expected. He could only think there was something missing, and he couldn't fathom what it could be. Although he'd only had one shot of the euphoria, he'd wished for more…

…and then at that moment, he saw a blue portal open within the test chamber. No, really? She came back? Apparently she'd heard how to solve the "puzzle" in this test chamber from his yelling at his creations (granted, he'd designed this chamber for cubes with legs to solve, not an arguably more intelligent being than that), and proceeded to grab one cube and place it on the button.

The moment the cube touched the red glowing button, he was rendered nearly speechless. He shuddered as a moan left his speakers. _This_ was how it felt? The incredible feeling coursed through his circuits, creating waves of pleasure throughout his entire being. He couldn't remember anything that felt better.

At that moment, he looked down at Chell. She had a small smile on her face, this knowing smile, as if she knew how this must feel. But if anything at that moment, he simply thought she looked beautiful. Her dark brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail with strands framing her face, her lean, curvy body…

Wait. Hold on for a moment. Was he just fantasizing about Chell as a bloody human would?

Great, now he had this even stronger desire to have her trigger the testing euphoria reactions than he'd had before.

18. Hell

Wheatley heard of the human concept of hell through some of the literature he'd read while controlling the facility. One in particular that resonated within his memories was The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. One could consider his current physical state a form of hell, as She'd sent him through an incinerator, painfully dismantled and reassembled, nearly blown to smithereens, dropped from incredible heights without anything resembling Long-Fall Boots, and anything GLaDOS could come up with since his return from space two weeks prior.

Remembering the epic poem, his mental state could be considered hell as well. Within The Inferno, the innermost circle of hell was reserved for the traitors, the betrayers, eternally frozen within ice. That's certainly how his circuits felt. His thoughts went out to Chell, and how he'd betrayed her trust. Although he had no idea what came over him, this cold, permanent icy feeling was his just punishment for his actions.

19. Pain

Chell looked up as Wheatley spun around in his new body. Yes, she thought, they'd done it. Together, as a team, they took down that insane supercomputer AI.

She saw the lift rise out of the corner of her eye after he called it just for her, and eagerly, she stepped in. Immediately, mental images went through her mind, picturing a pale blue sky with cotton clouds floating by, a warm gentle summer breeze flowing through long green grass and rustling the leaves in the highest points of massive oak trees, and she heard Wheatley lightheartedly laughing in the background of her thoughts… wait, why did his voice change?

The lift then came to a sudden halt.

"Actually, why do we have to leave right now?"

No! Wheatley, don't do this! This isn't you, there's no way this is you! This isn't the lighthearted, bumbling Wheatley who'd been her friend this whole time!

Despite her determined nature, Chell couldn't hide her look of pain and utter betrayal as Wheatley smashed her lift through the floor. Betrayal of trust is the worst sort of pain.

20. Moon

Chell and Wheatley laid back under the stars blanketing the night sky, watching the golden sun set in the west. They took turns pointing out various constellations and bringing up small stories from the past.

Until the moon was clearly visible from where they lay in the grass.

After a brief silence, Wheatley was the first to speak. "I can't believe I was stuck up there with that Space Sphere. And who would have thought that the _moon_ could conduct a portal? You certainly learn something new each day, don't you, love?"

She quietly chuckled. "Definitely. How long ago was that now? Ten years since you were up there?"

He sighed. "…Yes. It was bloody lonely, you know? Day in and day out only with that sphere for company? It's a miracle I didn't go completely mad. And then with GLaDOS bringing me back to Aperture for this _human_ test idea… I'd say I've had one hell of a life."

"Wheatley, if you think about it, all of that could have happened for a reason. Without Aperture, we wouldn't have met, we wouldn't be together in the way we are now… so just accept it." Chell said with a smile.

"Don't worry love, I do." He replied as he leaned in to kiss her.


	3. Chapter 3

Human to Machine and Back Again, Part 3

Summary: Short drabbles for the Wheatley x Chell pairing. Ten per chapter. Human Wheatley, non-human, AU, canon, anything goes.

AN: Sorry for the delay, I was expecting to get this out sooner. Apparently when my drabbles come from work, they come out… strange (spending eight hours on a napkin embossing machine will make your mind wander). Thanks for the comments—all five reviews of the last chapter! I loved reading them, and thanks for all of your suggestions!

On a secondary note, I think this story will eventually have five chapters, fifty drabbles in all. I primarily used this as a brainstorming exercise before I write a longer, multichapter story. Keep on the lookout for that once it shows up! Before I ramble as much as Wheatley, here's the next series of drabbles!

21. Books

Chell heard a sound coming from the bedroom of her apartment. Initially, she didn't think much of it since she knew Wheatley was currently there, detached from the Management Rail she'd installed on the ceiling throughout the apartment. Not thinking anything of it, she turned back to her task at hand: reading that new novel she'd purchased from the discount book store—

There it was again—the same sound. What exactly _was_ it? Setting her book down on the end table, she stood up and walked across the room to the bedroom where he currently lay.

Wheatley had taken up a new hobby: books. She guessed it gave him something to do while she was gone at work, and she also figured his fixation on novels stemmed from GLaDOS's comments toward him back at Aperture. He read anything he set his optic on: adventure, horror, psychology, textbooks, history, biography, teen fiction…

…and tragic romance.

She walked in and was greeted by the almost-pathetic sounds of Wheatley crying. "No, you can't die! You should have your whole life ahead of you! You were finally happy with him, and…"

"What on Earth are you reading?" Chell curiously said before walking over and picking up his newest reading endeavor. "_A Walk to Remember_? You really need to stop reading these romantic tragedies, Wheatley."

"I can't! I bloody can't, I've tried to put this book down, but it kept staring back at me with the intense desire to be read! I feel like I need to keep reading, to keep learning about this world you immersed me in, and _no_, I'm _not_ a moron since I'm learning all of this wonderful stuff from books about you humans and your ways, and—"

Chell figured she was happy he hadn't changed one bit.

22. Pudding

During her lunch break, Chell walked to her favorite spot: a nearby park bench. A massive oak tree loomed overhead providing a comfortable amount of shade, while a fountain trickled water nearby. Sitting down, she pulled out her lunch: a honey ham and pepperjack sandwich on wheat, a McIntosh apple, and a cup of chocolate pudding. After consuming the other items, she removed the seal from the pudding cup and licked the excess off of the foil. Grabbing her spoon, she almost touched the Chocolate Heaven… but froze in place once she heard a voice.

" 'ello there! I'm new to the area, and I hoped you could point me in the right direction. No? That's fine, mate, I'll try somebody else."

That voice! He was right behind her! What was he doing here—how did he return from space? She had to leave before he noticed her—

"Oh, 'ello there!" Shit, too late. "I'm new here, and I'm hoping you c-can—" He froze. She took the moment to look at him: unkempt straw-colored hair, almost unnaturally blue eyes, pale skin with a dusting of freckles, square-rimmed glasses, and at least six inches taller than her. What?

"So, um… Chell, I, um… I didn't expect this at all…" He began rambling.

"Since when are you _human_?" Chell stated, with a disbelieving tone to her voice.

"Apparently I was originally human… taking a human mind and turning it into an AI is how GLaDOS came to be. The process also can be reversed. So, here I stand! A bloody human! I have no idea where I am, or where I'm going, or really anything at all—"

"You think you can show up and just act _nice_ toward me? After everything that happened? Who do you think I am?"

"Chell, I just want to apologize—"

"Not. Now. If you can't tell, I'm irate. Here I thought I'd moved beyond all of this, and then you show up out of _nowhere_ and expect to apologize and make everything better!" The only object she had in her hands was her beloved pudding cup, but some sacrifices needed to be made.

She threw the pudding at his face. After it collided with his nose, the cup fell to the ground and a glob of pudding remained on the tip of his nose. He stood there flabbergasted—pudding as a weapon? Chell quickly turned and began to walk away back to work.

"Chell! Chell, let me explain!" He called from behind her as he began running in her direction.

23. Elevator

After her adventures in Aperture Science, Chell commonly broke down emotionally when faced with situations similar to what she experienced there. Following her release, she spoke with a doctor about her symptoms, and was eventually diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He kindly gave her some light medication, and some instructions to try avoiding situations which were uncomfortable and triggered these reactions.

As a result, she only took the stairs wherever she needed to go.

Unfortunately, this was not an ideal day. She was running late for work. Normally this would turn out fine, but her secondary prescription bottle in her purse had nothing left. Now she had to be extra precautious, since she didn't want to fall victim to any sort of reaction—

-The stairs were undergoing maintenance? Since when? She looked through the barricade, and sure enough, the maintenance crew was at work, repairing cracks in the concrete. She heard a coworker state that a piece of concrete fell from overhead and injured one of the finance department employees.

No, no! This couldn't be happening, could it? She had a meeting in just a half-hour, she wouldn't be able to handle a mental meltdown today! Looking around, she really had no choice but to step into the elevator and ride it up to the seventh floor of the massive office building.

The doors slid open, revealing an empty elevator. Wood-paneled walls, a yellowing light on the ceiling, and a small speaker playing boring and repetitive light music. Determined and focusing on the low decibels of the tune, she cautiously stepped in. As the doors began to slide closed, she almost laughed at how simple this seemed. Far easier than an eleven-floor trek up the stairs to this meeting—

Suddenly, a light emotion gripped her the instant the doors shut—fear, she noticed—and she began to will it out of her mind. By doing so, it only began to spread through her body, her breathing shallowed and quickened, her eyes darting around the claustrophobic space as she began yearning for a quick escape. Brief snippets of memories began to assault her mind—

_As the elevator rose, it quickly halted. The doors opening, she was faced with four of Her turrets with no escape, as the beams focused on her, the sinking feeling quickly spreading through her body—this really was the end, wasn't it?_

"_Can a moron punch you through the floor?" Wheatley yelled as a robotic claw began pounding on her small capsule, collapsing as she watched the remnants of her only friend slip away- _

As much as she tried to remain calm, panic began to overtake her mind. She fell to her knees in the elevator as it passed the sixth floor. Wheatley… he did this to her. After everything they'd been through together, she still couldn't help but miss him. A strange combination of fear and guilt ran through her, remembering how she should have held onto him better.

A multifaceted scream came from her throat just as the elevator finally reached its destination.

24. Radio

Chell found herself driving down another upper-Michigan country road. Nothing but dirt and gravel winding through a dense pine forest. Slightly muddy, too—a summer thunderstorm had rolled through the previous night. Nothing but the sounds of the light wind blowing the small sedan, the gravel hitting the wheels and underbody of the car, and the sounds of the car's radio with light static.

This was possibly one of her favorite things to do. Feeling the carefree feeling of driving without a destination down near-deserted roads and enjoying the environment of the northern woods couldn't be emulated in any other environment she'd experimented with yet.

Another radio station began to fade to static, causing Chell to quickly search for a new one that met her preferences. Nothing too hard or soft, likely with some light vocals, maybe some piano or acoustic guitar… she just wanted to relax.

"_Hello, and welcome to Car Talk—" _Not bad, but not music.

"—_everyone cared, nobody cried—" _Not in the mood…

"—_Daisy Duke's Bikini's on top—" _Oh please. No.

"_You've got your short, sad life left, that's what I'm counting on, I'll let you get right to it, now I only want you gone—"_

She began to listen to this station, memories of her time at Aperture slowly being dredged up from the farthest corners of her mind. From GLaDOS's deadly humor, to Wheatley's disastrous testing compulsion, and his initially carefree and innocent personality, and that British accent she'd listen to all day—

All of a sudden, she desired to see Wheatley once again and hear him ramble on and on about whatever topic he so pleased. That's what radio can do for you, she bitterly mused.

25. Jumpsuit

Chell opened her closet one afternoon, searching for a light jacket—the weather was breezier than she'd expected (and the weatherman predicted). After sliding the wooden doors aside, she began to scan her available wardrobe. She saw her favorite blue form-fitting jacket out of the corner of her eye, and proceeded to tug it off the hanger. She nearly dropped it when she noticed a flash of orange next to it.

That orange jumpsuit… she tried to resist picking it up, but she did anyway. Since when was it located next to her favorite jacket?

Holding it in front of her, she looked it over. It faded over time to a paler orange, and dust covered it. She noticed the penny-sized hole in the thigh, matching a puckered scar from a turret's stray bullet, a scorch mark on the right torso from a Thermal Discouragement Beam; nothing but a whole bunch of memories she'd rather forget.

Including _him_.

It was strange. Thinking about it, she'd rather remember GLaDOS and her ruthless, cold mannerisms and her intense desire to "do science" rather than Wheatley's betrayal. At least with GLaDOS, she knew what to expect. Couldn't she simply forget everything that happened at Aperture, including this strange desire to see him again?

That wasn't the easiest way, apparently.

26. Sleep

Wheatley turned on that morning. His sensors detected light coming through the blinds, and some birds chirping through the window. His internal clock told him the time: 6:30 am, the same time he powered on each morning. Chell set him on a timer so he could wake her up bright and early.

His optic spun so he faced in her direction. Just before he woke her, something caught his attention. Some light shone through the blinds of her bedroom window, covering her body in this beautiful glow. Her hair glowed with an intensity and gloss he hadn't noticed when she was awake. Her eyes remained gently closed, her head slightly tilted toward him. One hand went above her head, while the other grasped the comforter.

He'd never taken time in the morning to look at her sleeping form, but he knew he'd never tire of it. Now he wasn't looking forward to waking her for two reasons, and only one of them was the disgruntled reaction he received each morning.

27. Storm

Wheatley heard the crash of the thunder outside. His internal components involuntarily shuddered—why did he have to be subjected to such torment each time a summer thunderstorm rolled through? The concept of rain was bad enough, since any amount of water could possibly fry his circuits and each internal component like a state fair corn dog, but lightning too? That massive discharge of electricity could easily kill him in one instant. As a result, he refused to head outside or even go near any window, for fear of self-preservation.

Chell returned from grocery shopping in the middle of his contemplation, carrying wet cloth grocery bags while her soaked hair dripped on the ground after falling out of her standard ponytail. Wheatley looked over at her, noticed the _water, _and moved himself further away from her.

She set the bags down and sighed. "It's the rain, isn't it?"

"Well, I certainly don't feel like frying, crashing, burning, or dying this evening, so I'll stay away from you until you dry. I can't comprehend how you humans can withstand so much water every day—" Was there a tiny bit of audible fear in his voice?

"Hold on just one moment," Chell replied as she walked over to the bathroom. Five minutes later she emerged, completely changed into a red bathrobe (where did her other clothing pieces go?) with a white towel wrapped around her rain-soaked hair. She proceeded to pick him up and move both of them to her futon. He tried to shy away from her since she may still be slightly wet, but he knew the effort was futile. After some minor reassurance, he calmly remained seated on her thighs.

"You know love? I think I could get used to this sort of routine." Wheatley mused, looking up at her face. Chell did nothing but gently smile, carefully hugging the newly-calm personality core.

28. Sick

Wheatley tried to wake up Chell for work one morning, but she shooed him out of the room. She hadn't done that since he first arrived, when she refused to speak to him for weeks. He deserved it then, but not now—what had he done wrong?

Was this retribution from last week when he overflowed her kitchen with soap suds while washing dishes? He apologized already—like he knew he didn't require the entire bottle. Or could it be last night, when the noodles he cooked for their spaghetti dinner spilled into the sink instead of the colander? That had to be it, since he knew she wasn't thrilled about recooking supper…_ I know,_ he thought, _she's probably still mad, so I'll just walk in and apologize!_

He slowly opened the door to find all of the lights were off. He noticed her small form curled into a ball away from him, her hands grasping at the covers. Wait—she didn't go to work? She always leaves before eight in the morning, so why is she still here? Is she _that_ mad that she couldn't even walk past me?

"Chell," He began. Her only response was a murmur. "Chell? Are you mad at me? I mean, I haven't seen you all morning, and you didn't leave for work, and I'm thinking you're mad at me because of last night's supper…" He stopped when she lightly smiled in his direction, slowly shaking her head no. "What's wrong then?"

"I'm sick, I think I caught the flu that's going around." She began in a hoarse voice. "I called in to work since I don't want others to get it too."

"You're sick? Um… what's that like?" He inquired. Since he'd only been human for a few months, he hadn't experienced this phenomenon yet.

"You don't want to know. Since it's contagious, stay away from me for a couple of days until I feel better." Instead of taking her advice, he began walking closer. "…are you listening to anything I'm telling you? Do you want to get sick?"

He didn't say a word, something very uncommon for him. Instead, he crawled into bed with her, spooning her body from behind. As they cuddled for a few minutes, they maintained a comfortable silence until Wheatley spoke up, "I'll make you feel better."

"Possibly," Chell replied. "But you'll probably get sick, and then I'll be stuck taking care of you."

"I think it'll be worth it," Wheatley chuckled before kissing her overheated forehead.

29. "Pit Boss"

Chell just escaped Wheatley's spike plate "trap." She began to run back, but heard Wheatley's voice pleading her to come back. Not that she'd do anything stupid of course, she was merely curious what he would say. Cautiously, she walked back over to where his monitor was, although she couldn't see it. Next, he began speaking, but his words… confused her, to say the least.

"Um. You've got a yacht. And... Boys!" _Wait, what? _"Loads of fellas. Hunky guys down there." _Um, Wheatley… what's your point?_ "Possibly even a boyfriend! Who's to say at this stage. But, a lot of good looking fellas down there." _So you want me to go down in this pit, where all of these supposedly attractive men are? I guess that wouldn't make you angry or even slightly jealous._ "And, ah, a boy band as well! That haven't seen a woman in years. And they're not picky at all. They don't care if you've got a bit of brain damage…" _Enough with the brain damage! I'm perfectly fine, thank you very much, I just don't feel like talking to someone trying to kill me_. "And you've been running around sweating. And... A farm! A pony farm! And... Just jump down, would ya?"

I guess you really do hate me, don't you?

Chell began walking away, a new determination visible on her face.

30. "Wake-Up Call"

Wheatley zoomed by on his Management Rail. Couldn't _something_ or _somebody_ have told him about the major power malfunction in the wing where all of the human test subjects were kept? The test subjects he was in charge of? He just couldn't believe his luck.

Proceeding over to the main terminal, he quickly ran a scan of all test subjects. Only a small handful were still alive. _Great, just bloody great. Now there's nothing but a bunch of vegetables left. I'm really in hot water now, and it's not even my fault!_ He scanned the names. Nothing special, except for one:

First Name: Chell, Last Name: [REDACTED]

All other test subjects had data for a first and last name, so why not this one? Immediately he felt his intrigue take over, and he quickly proceeded to her relaxation stasis chamber.

She had to be the one. She had to be.

He began knocking on her door. " 'ello? Anyone in there? 'ello? Are you going to open the door? AH!" He screamed as the door swung open. "Oh my god, you look… um… good. Looking good, actually."

Actually, the moment he opened the door, he'd wanted to tell her she looked _beautiful_, but how would a test subject you've never seen before react to such a comment?


	4. Chapter 4

Human to Machine and Back Again, Part 4

Summary: Short drabbles for the Wheatley x Chell pairing. Ten per chapter. Human Wheatley, non-human, AU, canon, anything goes.

AN: Here's the next chapter of drabbles! This is the second to last I'll be posting (plans are for 50 total drabbles), and I hope you've all enjoyed this just as much as I have. I apologize if some of these drabbles seem tired or uninspired… this past week was hell at work (two shift changes within four days), so I'm still trying to recover. Remember to let me know which ones you liked the most, which ones need some tweaking, and send your remaining prompts—there's only ten slots available!

31. Shower

Chell and Wheatley found their way (miraculously) to the Aperture Apartments: living space for employees to stay for extended periods of time. She immediately dashed inside one of the rooms to look around. The room looked very similar to a cheap hotel room: green and maroon floral print bedspread, a matching armchair and desk in the corner, a standard watercolor print of a coastal lighthouse above the bed, and a bathroom door.

Chell's face couldn't hide her elation when she tossed Wheatley on the bed and rushed into the small offshoot room. Wheatley felt disgruntled at his sudden disregard, but once he heard the sound of rushing water and Chell's joyous-toned voice, he felt a little less bad. Even through the sound of the shower, his incredibly-sensitive microphone picked up the sound of a zipper—Chell's jumpsuit.

His optic immediately shifted toward the closed door. _Why would she have closed the door,_ he wondered_. It's not like I have legs to walk over there and open the door and see her without a jumpsuit on—_

He felt his hull grow hot at the thought. In all of his few-hundred year existence, he couldn't recall a moment where he'd even thought of a human not wearing any clothing. He wasn't a human, such thoughts hadn't really been his cup of tea. But the thought of _her_ without her tacky orange jumpsuit on, with the water rushing down her smooth, long legs and those mounds that rested on her chest—

Ten minutes later, Chell emerged from the bathroom wearing an Aperture brand bathrobe and a towel wrapped around her hair. She looked over at the bed where she'd plopped Wheatley, only to find he was powered off. She sighed and worked on drying her hair with the towel.

He'd short-circuited himself just by the thought of her in the shower.

32. Lotion

Wheatley powered back on minutes later. "Ugh… where am I?" His optic spun around the drab room before it focused on Chell sitting on the bed, looking at him. She now wore some bathrobe and towel around her body and head respectfully, which caused him to remember his previous thoughts of her. "Chell, I, um… I…" Wheatley stammered, causing her to look back at him with a quizzical look. She shook her head when he didn't respond, walking back to the bathroom.

He couldn't believe the thoughts that ran through his memory. Thinking of a _human_ in such a manner? Not that anything was possible between them, as he was machine and she… wasn't… but why did he have such inappropriate thoughts of her?

As he contemplated what happened to him not long prior, Chell emerged from the bathroom once again—still in the same garments Wheatley saw earlier. She sat on the bed next to him, holding a bottle in her hand: body lotion, lavender scented, the bottle read. She opened the cap, placing a quarter-sized dollop in her left palm before capping the bottle once again. After placing half her right leg, then half on her left, she began massaging the substance into her smooth legs. His internal temperature rose again, now _watching_ a slightly intimate action rather than visualizing it.

As her hands began massaging her thighs rather than her calves, Chell noticed a spark come from Wheatley's slightly-broken frame. She immediately looked over, quickly seeing his eye trailing over her newly-shaven legs before looking up at her face, then moving away and focusing on the tan lamp. Wheatley began mumbling to himself about _something_, but Chell knew.

She'd enjoy teasing him in the coming days.

33. Cube

Chell stared down at it: the charred Aperture Science Weighted Companion Cube which she'd unwillingly tossed into the incinerator. This object was her only remaining friend from her run-ins with dangerous, potentially homicidal AIs within the facility beneath her feet.

It wouldn't threaten to stab her. It wouldn't smash her through the floor of a lift. It wouldn't force her to run through an eternity of tests in the pursuit of questionable science or its own self-gratification. It wouldn't talk to her. It couldn't even move of its own volition. It wouldn't rescue her or help her escape anything (or at least try). It wouldn't reassure her that everything should be alright. It wouldn't ramble on and on about the strangest topics on a whim with an absolutely endearing British accent.

It wasn't Wheatley.

She looked up into the darkening sky. The Cube wasn't her only friend—the other was somewhere near the moon, floating amongst the stars.

34. Tears

Dangling in the air by GLaDOS's mechanical claw, Chell saw Wheatley's cracked optic. It flickered a few times before dimming, changing from the bright blue she really needed to see at that moment to a dull black. Even the sparks emitted from his metallic hull ceased. Glaring at GLaDOS, she demanded an explanation.

"Maybe he's dead, maybe he's not. Not like I know off-hand, but I don't really care to run a diagnostic on this moron's internal systems. Regardless, I'm noticing a far lower decibel reading than I did before, and wouldn't you agree that's much nicer?" GLaDOS replied in an almost disgustingly-sweet voice. Chell was absolutely enraged, and made no attempt to hide her feelings for once.

Wheatley may be dead. He may be _dead_. Internally, she began to panic at the possible loss of the only friend which had helped her through this whole ordeal. Whatever her internal reaction, she wouldn't dignify GLaDOS with the satisfaction that She'd won.

"Besides, we have more testing to do. The pursuit of science continues." GLaDOS calmly stated before tossing Chell into a defunct incinerator shaft.

Chell didn't allow her tears to fall until she knew she was at the bottom—she wanted security in knowing that GLaDOS couldn't see them through a ton of installed Aperture Science Security Cameras.

35. Wheat

Chell knew how to paint. When growing up, many believed she was a natural artist. Typically, it's difficult to tell whether a ten-year old has any sort of special artistic talent, but Chell did. Throughout the brief years of her childhood, she would draw relatively accurate pictures of the pine trees of her parents' backyard, her teddy bear Derek (named from the cute boy across the street), and just about anything else she could come up with. Her parents kept a small portfolio of all of their daughter's artwork, hoping to share it with her as she grew older.

Needless to say, things didn't quite go according to plan. Chell was imprisoned within Aperture Laboratories as an unwilling test subject and placed in stasis for three hundred years, forced to take down two overbearing, psychotic artificial intelligence units fighting for her freedom. Her parents were long deceased, and much of her childhood artwork disintegrated through the passage of time.

Her skill as an artist hadn't faded.

The moment she stepped outside the shed in the wheat field, her senses were overrun by pure joy and beauty at the sight that lay before her. Nothing but golden, sunkissed wheat as far as she could see. The moderate breeze swept through the stalks, creating ripples through the field. _This_ must be true happiness, she thought to herself, taking a moment to reflect on her time at Aperture.

Months passed. Not long after her release, she painted one piece of artwork, now hanging in her living room above the sofa. That exact image of the wheat field that had emotionally burned itself into her photographic memory was artistically rendered on her wall. One key difference existed: the moon rose in the picture, showing a far bluer color than it could actually ever have.

36. Name

Chell and Wheatley had escaped GLaDOS' wrath for the time being. They sat together in a corridor outside Her testing chambers. At this moment, Wheatley looked up at her and asked, "Is [REDACTED] really your last name?"

Chell stared down at him in disbelief. Did such a surname exist? She rose an eyebrow and shook her head 'no.'

"I only asked since that's what your file said when I woke you up. It did seem a little strange, since I'd never heard of a name like that, but I'd also never heard of a name like yours, Chell, or Cave, the name of the old owner of this place, but I had to ask. What is it then?" Chell looked back strangely.

"Oh, right, the whole brain damage thing." Chell knotted her eyebrows at this comment. "How about this: I'll name off a bunch of last names I've seen before, and I want you to tell me yes or no to each. Alright?" She looked at him even more strangely, if possible, at his outright stupid idea.

"Smith? Johnson? Williams? Brown? Jones? Miller? None of those? Let me see here…" Wheatley contemplated further.

Chell responded by hitting him lightly on the top of his sphere to get him to stop. "Ow! Who bloody programs artificial intelligences to feel simulated pain?" Wheatley whined back.

37. Sun

Wheatley had never seen the sun shine before. Sure, he'd heard of it (who hadn't?), seen photographs of the sun and the process of it setting (why does everything change to reds and oranges before it disappears?), and wished to see it with every circuit throughout his sphere, but the attachment to his management rail sure prevented that from happening.

The first time he saw the sun himself was after he took over Aperture. A part of the ceiling collapsed, causing an almost intense amount of light to shine through. He looked over, relishing in the warmth the sun provided—he wasn't that much of a machine that he couldn't _feel_ warmth, although his internal temperature gauge rose slightly indicating an increase.

Somehow, the sunlight hitting his mechanical hull felt familiar at the same time it felt incredibly foreign. His train of thought led him to Chell, currently located somewhere within the bowels of the facility. He noticed his internal temperature raise even further if that was possible as he remembered her small smiles she'd showed him. He felt a momentary pang of regret for treating her the way he did just hours before—wasn't she his friend?

_No_, the internal programming voice coldly stated_. You know she never cared about you, she simply wanted escape. You were willing to provide that for her, so she acted as though she cared for your well-being._

It hurt. That voice that flooded his consciousness after he took over Her chassis had to be right… right? Chell didn't care about him, only herself. He'd only bossed him around as a means to her ends—wasn't she brain-damaged? Why did he bother listening to her?

Thoughts of Chell faded moments later through his desire to continue testing, to scratch that itch that awakened in the back of his mind.

38. Hair

Wheatley moved his hand through his hair, looking at a mirror. Nothing changed, it always felt the same and looked the same. Stiff, coarse, and messy looking, he hated it, even the color. What kind of color was it supposed to be, light brown splashed with some sort of dirty blonde? No matter what he did to his wet hair after a shower—comb it straight, attempt to use some styling gels or sprays or whatever he managed to find, it always turned out looking the same.

His thoughts shifted to Chell's hair. Dark and glossy, it always looked soft and smooth, contrasting his own. Someday, he'd love the chance to run his hands through it, to feel whether his fantasies were true, to smell her shampoo's scent and determine how well it complemented her—

He sighed, turning away from the mirror. She was his best friend, his only friend… how could he even consider ruining the friendship they had over some possibly short-term romance?

39. Freedom

Wheatley never felt freedom before, but this must be it. He circled around, observing the infinite stars surrounding him (and that bloody Space-obsessive sphere), feeling far freer than he ever had been. His entire existence had been attached to his Management Rail as he zoomed through the Aperture facilities, observing vegetative test subjects and really nothing else. Now that he had the chance to reflect on his life until that point, and his idea of freedom, something felt… lacking.

Companionship was at a minimum, since all he had was the Space Sphere for company… if you could define _that_ as company. He only talked about space, and anything about space he could think of with his limited processing power.

…if only he hadn't betrayed Chell. She could have provided the companionship factor he so badly desired stranded amongst the stars, he would have accompanied her as she left Aperture, moving on to a new time in his synthetic life with her…

Freedom apparently wasn't exactly what he'd wanted all along.

40. Confusion

Chell sat on her futon in her apartment's living room when the buzzer sounded. Curious, (she wasn't expecting visitors or any packages delivered today) she went down the stairs to see who stood downstairs and why they were insistent on ruining her day off from work. Opening the door, she spotted a tall man standing in front of her with a goofy-looking smile. His messy blonde hair showed no sense of direction, his pale face dotted with freckles, and a pair of almost-inhuman blue eyes completed the look. _Who was this?_

" 'ello there! Remember me?"

Chell took a step back. …Wheatley? She knew she'd recognize that British accent anywhere. Several emotions rose in her chest at the memories dredged up by that voice: confusion (how was he here _and human_, why did he come, how did he even find her?), happiness (thank goodness he's here—she normally felt quite lonely in this small one-bedroom apartment), and anger (how _dare_ he show his face here after everything he put her through).

Wheatley barely had time to react before Chell's flat palm smashed into his cheek.

"Bloody hell! What was that for? Wait… don't answer that question. Can't say I don't deserve it, though—" He began before Chell cut off his speech by kissing him. _This_ was a reaction he didn't think he could have foreseen even with his three-hundred years experience dealing with humans. Not that he minded the kiss, of course.

Chell broke the kiss, looking up into Wheatley's bright blue eyes. Her face displayed a contagious light smile which he immediately amplified himself. Who cared if human things were this confusing when the end result could be _this _enjoyable?


	5. Chapter 5

Human to Machine and Back Again, Part 5

Summary: Short drabbles for the Wheatley x Chell pairing. Ten per chapter, fifty total. Human Wheatley, non-human, AU, canon, anything goes.

AN: Complete! I really hope you like the final drabbles, since I battled a bout of writer's block recently, so this chapter was difficult to get out. This isn't the last you'll hear from me; I'll be writing a multi-chapter story in coming weeks, so stay tuned for that. There may be some adult situations, but I'm hoping I won't have to bump it up to an 'M' rating. I hope I'll add enough twists to keep it interesting :)

Thank you to everyone! I've gotten more reviews/alerts/favorites than I could have imagined! Thank you to the reviewers of the story: NewMoonBloodTears, Kawaii Usagi Chan San, Xanjen, Jason Grey, Weskette, WybourneObsessed, KThxBai and to Mystic 777, who reviewed every chapter! I probably wouldn't have continued the story without any interest, so thank you to everyone! On to the final chapter of drabbles!

41. Clothes

Chell returned to the bathroom after applying the lavender body lotion. Wheatley looked at the door, thinking there must be more preparations a human female requires for bed. _Perfect time to investigate and take notes,_ he thought.

_So far,_ he noted, _Chell took a shower or bath (don'tthinkaboutitdon'tthinkaboutit) since she emerged completely wet in a bathrobe. She also applied some lotion to her legs and arms and thighs_—he felt another spark arc across his hull. _Apparently, don't think about that, either._

While taking reference notes (he figured he'd need them later if they'd travel further through the complex), he heard the click of the door's locking mechanism. She finished whatever she did in there now. Shifting his eye over, hoping to gain some more documentable information, he saw—was _that_ her?

Chell stood there in the doorway, wearing something _very_ different. _Lots of… um… lace, and not enough… fabric…_ Wheatley's broken thoughts attempted to describe. Her outfit certainly was slightly intimate. She wore a light green tight-fitting tanktop with lace blossoming from the edges, and a pair of short (_so very short, _Wheatley noted) black shorts. The shorts accentuated her slightly curvy, yet athletic thighs, while the tight tanktop showcased her form and accenting her chest.

While Wheatley's optic focused on the cleavage shown between her breasts in this bold outfit she found, he blacked out for the second time that night.

_Apparently, he can't withstand _that_ much teasing,_ Chell thought.

42. Touch

After Wheatley came to—it'd only been a few minutes—he looked back up at her. A rush of _some_ emotion ran through his circuitry at the revelation of what happened, and that she _knew_ how she affected him. Unable to move on his own, he spun his eye toward her, realizing she still wore the same outfit that caused his blackout. He quickly looked back at the lamp, which held his attention earlier. If he'd been human, he'd likely have an impressive shade of red splashed across his face.

Chell made a sound—a light whistle—directing Wheatley's attention back to her again. Looking at her face (_don't look down or you'll black out again_, Wheatley kept murmuring to himself), some sort of expression was painted there. Taking note, her eyebrows were gently raised, and a mild smile lit up the room. Pity? Teasing happiness?

"So, um… I can't really explain just what happened back there. One moment I was fine, but the next, I shut down completely, requiring an emergency reboot. I really think there's something seriously wrong with me… and then blacking out a second time! How does _that_ happen?" Wheatley rambled, trying to take the attention off of him.

Chell watched as his optic shifted around the room uncomfortably as he spoke. Although his reactions indicated he wanted to look at her, he probably felt anxious and nervous about her reactions, trying to focus on just about anything else within the tiny room. She then thought of something that should help cheer him up a little. Reaching her hand toward him, she lightly placed it on the side of his hull.

Immediately, his eye darted up toward Chell's face again, then leading to her shoulder, arm, and where her hand was. She was touching him? At that realization, another short circuit happened, a jolt of electricity arcing across his cracked shell. Her other hand moved so it touched his other side, bringing his optic back to her face. Seeing it, he couldn't help but smile—but since he physically couldn't—his lower shutter moved upward resembling some strange smile.

And finally, he felt much more at ease around her.

43. Rescue

Chell always was an animal lover, ever since she was a young child. Her most fond childhood memories consisted of her petting the family cat Buddy, or playing fetch with their Golden Retriever. Following her escape from Aperture, she knew she wanted to adopt a pet to keep her company. She walked into the local animal shelter one day, hoping to find the right companion. Living alone was too lonely for her taste, so finding a "roommate" sounded like a great idea. She explained what she wanted, and the volunteer immediately spoke of one pet.

"We had a cat come in about a month ago. Poor thing… he was a stray that came in the worst condition you could imagine… but we nursed him back to health, and he's ready for adoption. We estimate he's about a year old, and _very_ lively. Interested in meeting him?" Chell shook her head yes, and the volunteer walked back in moments later with the cat.

Chell couldn't believe what she saw. A blue-point traditional Siamese, long and agile, looked up at her with his striking, brilliant blue eyes. He tilted his head and mewed, trying to gain attention. And again, and again. She fell in love with him at that moment; she had to take him home.

After filling out the proper adoption paperwork, she returned a week later to bring him home. Placing him in a cat carrier and leaving the building, they got in her car and drove off to Chell's apartment. She quickly noticed the cat's mannerisms—he had a hard time being quiet, usually filling the air with the sound of his melodic voice, and she saw him playing with and biting his own tail.

At that moment, the perfect name came to her: Wheatley. The cat really was just like her friend, the cordial personality core. Thinking for a moment, she determined this Wheatley would be her replacement for the one she lost to the infinite area of space.

44. Candle

Wheatley looked around they huddled in. Only three—himself, Doug Rattmann, and a small girl he'd manage to save—escaped to this area away from that deadly neurotoxin she'd released upon her awakening.

"I'll go check the facility neurotoxin levels and figure out when things are safe enough." Rattmann said as he left their candle-lit safe haven. They had to kill the facility's power to stop the GLaDOS project and the flow of deadly gas. That left Wheatley here with the girl he'd saved.

He looked over in her direction. She was a daughter of an Aperture employee, since children didn't normally exist in the facility. Quite short, with her legs curled up near her chest. Most of her dark hair fell free of her messy ponytail, and her fearful light-blue eyes showcased an inner determination he surely didn't have at the time.

He hadn't had much experience with younger children in years, but he thought he'd try. They could be stuck there for quite a while longer. "What's your name?"

"I'm Chell. My dad's here somewhere, can you help me find him?" She quietly replied. She spoke with a finality to her words, indicating she likely just wanted answers.

"Don't worry," He replied. "Just call me Wheatley. I'll make sure to help you out, alright? We'll find your dad soon, just you watch."

Chell looked at him, mildly smiled back and nodded her head once. He couldn't help but smile, he'd made a new friend that day.

45. Home

There's a key difference between a house and a home, Chell bitterly noted.

Within a house, a person's physical needs are met. They have a roof over their head, windows to let the sunlight shine through during the day, and a bed to sleep in. A person can live within a house, sometimes with other people, but not necessarily thrive. No connection exists between the person and the dwelling, always causing the individual to desire more from life.

A home is where the heart is. You invite friends and family into a well-kept home, with warmly-painted walls, tasteful paintings and beautiful photography placed well throughout. At a home, you curl up at night with a loved one on your favorite sofa, with a cup of hot chocolate steaming in your hands, warming your entire core from the inside as the sweet, hot liquid flows down your throat.

Chell looked around her drab apartment and sighed. This place could never act like a home to her—probably never, she mused—without her only friend to share it with.

46. Paint

Following Wheatley's human transition, Chell quickly noted that his coordination was poor, and his fine motor skills were highly lacking, to say the least. So, Chell decided to find a fun activity for him to improve his body's movements.

Trying to get him to jump rope failed miserably. He tired far too quickly, and managed to trip himself on the rope, falling face-first onto the asphalt. She also tried getting him to play some first-person shooter video games. He showed some slow progress playing the one-player campaign, but he failed terribly playing online for the first time, and refused to play any more (_He really can't take rejection and losing well, can he?_ Chell said to herself). More recently, she tried teaching him to cook. He responded well to that one, since he felt that over time he could help her out around the apartment more, but after making a complete mess of her kitchen one afternoon to make salty cookies, ("There's a difference between salt and sugar? They look the same.") she needed a new idea.

After he stumbled across her easel and acrylic paints—literally—her idea came. She'd teach him how to paint.

After giving him some introductory lessons ("The paint goes on the canvas, not your shirt, Wheatley."), she turned him loose one afternoon on a blank canvas. All she instructed him to do was to paint anything he wanted, but to try not making too much of a mess on the floor.

She returned a few hours later from errands around town, to find his completed painting still on the easel in the living room. The painting was crude, with shaky object edges and some unusual proportions, but she could make out the subject: her. He'd painted a picture, from memory, of her sitting on her favorite chair the easel had been pointed at. She smiled, her plan worked perfectly. Moving the easel back to the wall it normally sat, she went off to find him to let him know just how good of a job he did.

47. Innocence

_I'm innocent! I know I am!_

She dragged me back in and saved me from an eternity wandering the depths of space alone. Now, there's this yellow light in my vision, but it's hard to see exactly what it could be, my eye cracked some time ago—

-Oh, no. Don't let it be Her—

"So you just _had_ to drag this _utter moron_ back in through that portal, didn't you?"

_Yes, Chell saved me! Hold on, something isn't quite right here… why can't I talk? She… She disabled my speakers! This is nothing but an internal monologue!_

"Remember what I said earlier about killing him? Is it alright if I do just that? Well, I eventually will after what he did to me, but maybe I'll put him in the incinerator first. Then the room where all of the turrets scream at you. He'll be tortured before his murder. A painless killing is too… merciful for him."

_What? I'm going to be tortured and then… killed? Bloody hell! It's not my fault! None of this was my fault! Once I was plugged in, the chassis overwhelmed and corrupted me! I'm not at fault!_

"Hmm? You're not going to give him up? Even after this halfwit betrayed you with promises, sent into the bowels of this facility, threw you through tests with bottomless pits _and_ tried to murder you, you still want to save him?"

_Chell? Even after being bossy and monstrous and all, you still… like me?_

"You lunatic. Fine, keep him. Let him murder you this next time. I'm done. Just go."

48. Star

She was the star of his meager existence.

She was smart, even with the suspected brain damage. She also was athletic, even with her body's natural soft curves. One thing he couldn't deny to himself was that she was breathtakingly (if only he could breathe) beautiful.

He stared out at the stars surrounding him and that _moronic_ space core, wishing for the chance he never had while trying to help her escape the abandoned hellhole known as Aperture—to prove she truly was a star.

49. Kiss

Her touch felt like electricity arcing across his skin, causing him to shudder. He almost withdrew from the contact, shying away from her delicate, smooth skin touching his in any way. Something about her seemed pure and beautiful, and by touching her, he corrupted that notion with his rough hands. Regardless of what he thought, he couldn't pry himself from the electrifying contact she provided. To him, it didn't matter that the contact was by no means sensual—just holding hands—but to him, it felt as intimate as a deep, drawn-out kiss. Not that he'd ever kissed anyone, but based on movies he'd watched before, that's how it had to feel, right?

Suddenly—probably only to him since Wheatley focused almost completely on the sensations her touch provided—Chell's other hand made contact with the back of his neck. It was one thing to touch another's hand, but their neck? His face flushed red, and he couldn't bring himself to look into her icy blue eyes. The feelings from her touch which his nerve endings detected were driving him bloody mad. He couldn't stand the sensations, but at the same time, he craved them more than he expected.

Looking into her eyes, finally, a thought occurred to him then: had her eyes always been this close? Just as he attempted to stutter a response to this current predicament, he detected she _was_ moving closer to him. On a nervous impulse, he tried to shy away from whatever she was doing, but the hand on his neck held him there.

Her lips touched his.

His first kiss, he thought. A fiery feeling raged through his senses at the thought of Chell's lips touching his, completely engrossing him in the moment. He craved more, more, more, more…

This certainly _was_ better than how the movies depicted it.

50. Technology

Chell couldn't believe machines could be programmed to feel.

She knew Wheatley and GLaDOS could both feel pain, since she'd witnessed their yells and terrifying screams of physical pain on a few occasions: GLaDOS's haunting screams during the first core transfer and Wheatley's painful yell as he crashed on the ground following his bold disengagement from his Management Rail.

She knew Wheatley could also feel emotions. Much of the time, he went through the facility happy as a puppy, though at times frustrated, curious or scared. However, regardless of what she'd encountered so far, nothing could have prepared her for the stuttered words she heard next:

"I… I think I might love you." Wheatley timidly and quietly spoke to her.

How is it even possible for technology to love you? Chell was left completely speechless by Wheatley's strange comment. Could technology—something not even human or _alive_—be programmed to feel love? How do you react to that?


End file.
